


shot in the back (and you're not to blame)

by BookFangirlMaryJane



Series: TARDIS Advent Calendar Prompts [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Running, TARDIS Advent Calendar, Telepathy, Thoschei, Time Lord Telepathy (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookFangirlMaryJane/pseuds/BookFangirlMaryJane
Summary: This was supposed to be a nice, relaxing weekend, the Doctor thinks, barely dodging the laser beam being shot her way. A nice, relaxing, calm, not dangerous weekend together. And now? Now they’re being chased by angry people with guns.--o--TARDIS Advent Calendar (by Valc0), today's prompt is 'Renting a cabin for the weekend on the wrong planet.'Warnings: post-series 12, slight spoilers, a lot of angst.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: TARDIS Advent Calendar Prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041429
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	shot in the back (and you're not to blame)

**Author's Note:**

> ... I'm sorry.  
> I don't know why but I really crave angst in my writing right now.
> 
> There are slight spoilers but not really? The Vibe of spoilers is there. They're still avoiding talking about their trauma. Obviously. But there is a mention of what happened to a certain planet, so, to be safe...
> 
> Anyway, read on!

This was supposed to be a **nice** , **relaxing** weekend, the Doctor thinks, barely dodging the laser beam being shot her way. A nice, relaxing, **calm** , **not dangerous** weekend together. And now? Now they’re being chased by angry people with guns.

“Alright, so I might have brought us to the wrong place,” the Master admits, pulling her to the left and down a corridor just as another beam smashes into the wall next to her. “How was I supposed to know that Karyllos and Karallos are twin planets and one of them is hostile?”

“You said you picked the perfect place! That kinda implies you checked it out beforehand!” she snaps at him, dodging to the right and out of the way of a green laser.

“I got distracted, alright?” he snaps right back, ducking his head and almost getting his hair scorched by another laser beam.

The Doctor grabs his hand and together, they race down the hallway and turn several more corners until suddenly, the Master pulls her into a dark alcove and presses himself against her, effectively covering them both in the darkness.

Her breath is going harsh. She can feel him pant against her cheek, feels his body against hers, his fingers splayed over her wrists, his hearts beating in his chest. Her own are beating right back, frantically, equal parts excitement and fear.

Loud footsteps rush past them, angry voices and rustling armor, and the Doctor tries to stay calm, tries not to make a noise. The Master is motionless, silent, his forehead only inches from her own. With barely a thought, she closes the distance and feels him stiffen further.

**_‘Are you alright, luv?’_ **

_‘Bit out of breath, but yes. You?’_

**_‘The same. We’ll wait until they’re gone and then leave.’_ **

_‘Good plan, yeah.’_

For a moment, they just look at each other, foreheads still connected. Their faces are so close. His hot breath ghosts over her lips and a shiver wracks her body. His eyes are so deep, so dark, so…

She doesn’t know who moves first but suddenly they’re kissing and everything else fades away. His lips on hers is all that matters, his tongue in her mouth, dancing with her own, a dance she doesn’t know the steps to yet but he’s all too happy to teach her.

Hands roam over her arms, slip down to her waist, tease along her sides, wander beneath her shirt and explore her skin. His fingers leave trails of fire against her.

She reaches out, too, lets her own hands roam over his chest, over his stomach. He’s soft this time around, no sharp edges and cheekbones like Missy. Sweet, cute, soft. She likes it. She won’t tell him that, of course. He’d only get upset that she views him as _‘cute’_.

Her hands aimlessly trail up and down his torso until he steps closer, crowding her into the wall, pressing her into the rough surface in her back, and her fingers find their way into his hair instead. His hair is soft, too, but that’s not new. She always liked his silken hair. How many hours have they lain in deep red grass, heads in each other’s laps, fingers carding through each other’s hair?

The Master makes a noise against her lips and only now does the Doctor realize she pulled up a memory of such a moment, of two boys laughing in a field of red grass, one of them rolling atop the other to kiss him, blond locks tousled by fingers tangling in it, breathless moans... His father’s land, she remembers it so clearly. Racing up Mount Perdition in the dead of night, naughty little children, how she misses that simplicity, misses those fields…

There are tears in the Doctor's eyes when the Master pulls back to gaze down at her. Oh, she’s not the only one crying. He is, too. She shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have brought it up. But how could she not? His mind wrapped around hers, entangled with her own, in a way they haven't been in ages, centuries, millennia… Of course she would be reminded of the past.

 _‘Sorry,’_ she whispers in their minds, letting her arms drop to his shoulders and pulling him closer to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

 ** _‘Don’t apologize, luv, I understand…’_** he’s quick to reassure her, even if his voice trembles with emotion. She doesn’t point it out.

_‘I think they’re gone now. Shall we?’_

Slowly, the Master pulls away and steps out of the alcove. For a moment, the Doctor closes her eyes and breathes. Then she follows him.

The hallways are empty but they stick to the shadows either way, careful and wary. They got surprised once already today. Neither of them wants a repeat.

As they walk, the Doctor’s gaze keeps flickering over to him. He walks ahead of her, not looking at her in a way that tells her he is actively doing so and not subconsciously. Shit. She should have thought before remembering Gallifrey like that when their minds were still…

She stops thinking. Their minds are still connected. Loosely, now, without skin contact and focus, but at the edge of her mind she can feel him. His mind is dark and veiled and she stays clear of it. She won’t intrude on him like that without permission.

They haven't cut the connection in case of an emergency. That’s the only reason. And she is not going to do anything. Not when their minds are so close, finally, after lifetimes. She missed it. She missed it so much. Humans can never truly make up for the gaping hole in her mind, in her hearts, in her soul. They’re not telepathic. Sure, their jumble of thoughts soothes the ache of the severed threads in her head… But they can never replace them.

Somehow, the two of them manage to get through the hallways and back to the Master’s TARDIS without running into guards again. When the cottage’s front door comes into view, the Doctor’s shoulders drop in relief and she sees the Master exhale slowly.

Of course, that’s when steps sound behind them, followed by the drawing of a gun and the whirring of it charging.

The Doctor doesn’t have time to react, apart from whirling around and staring at the guard, laser gun pointed right at her chest. There is the expanse of a small corridor between them but the gun is already charged and she sees the guard pull the trigger.

Green light flashes when the gun is fired and the Doctor’s eyes widen.

Then someone pushes her out of the way and she stumbles into the wall, the Master’s body falling against her, pressed up against her in a mockery of their earlier position. Smoke fills the hallway, the smell of discharge and sizzled flesh.

A bolt of pain races through their minds and the Doctor reaches out for him, catches the Master when he sways and drags him after her, using the moment of confusion to get them both safe behind the closed doors of his TARDIS.

Only once they’re inside and his TARDIS is taking off does she allow herself to worry about him. He’s leaning into her side, panting slightly, body trembling, looking far too weak for comfort. The Master isn't weak. He shouldn’t look weak.

“C-come on, let’s get you to the med-bay. Which way…?”

The Doctor is trying very hard not to panic when his eyes suddenly roll into the back of his head and he slumps down. Only her quick reflexes allow her to catch his body, lax, far too lax. She cradles him to her chest, his head lolling to the side, onto her shoulder, and she almost sobs.

“Med-bay. Please,” she addresses his TARDIS. Several flickering lights answer, show her the way down the hall and into a small room. The Master feels so frail in her arms. His clothes are scorched and there is an ugly wound in his back. If he hadn’t been wearing that stupid purple coat, the shot might have shattered bones. Just a little stronger and it might have burned a hole right through his back, through his heart…

She tries not to think about it as she peels his shirt off and feels his unconscious mind flinch against hers. He’s in pain. She hates that he’s in pain.

What does she need?

Salve for the burns, painkillers for the agony he seems to be in, bandages to wrap up the wound.

Alright. He’s bound to have all that. He’s going to be alright. He’s going to be perfectly fine.

The Doctor squeezes his hand and gets to work.

**—o—**

Thirty-three agonizingly long hours later, the Master stirs.

The Doctor’s head jerks up and her fingers tighten around his, flutter down to his wrist to check his pulse points. Steady beats. His breathing is calm, too. He’s waking up, she can feel his mind brush against hers, growing more alert by the second.

“Mhm,” he mutters, slowly turning his head and blinking at her, cheek pressed to the pillow. “Doctor?”

She sniffs and smiles at him. “Yeah. I’m here.”

His hand tightens in hers. “What happened?” He tries to sit but sucks in a breath and falls back down onto the bed only seconds later. Slowly, he rolls onto his shoulder, face pulled into a mask of pain. It tapers off once he has found a good position to rest in, back not touching the bed.

“Don’t move,” the Doctor says, a bit late, and he just looks at her. “Y-you got hit. In the back. By one of those laser guns.” _You pushed me out of the way._ “I got us both to your TARDIS and off-world, and then you lost consciousness.” _Worst moment of my life._

The Master takes a moment to process her words. Then he grimaces. “I feel a bit… You gave me painkillers. That’s why my head is a bit woozy.” Not a question, they both know he’s right. “Anything important injured?”

A watery chuckle escapes her lips and the Doctor squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears back. When she opens them again, he is staring at her, a frown on his face. “What?”

“N-nothing. Just…” She sniffles again. “Your stupid coat caught the brunt of the laser.” _You’d be dead without it. You’d have regenerated without it. I don’t think I’d have been able to bear it, you dying in my arms._ “Nothing important was hit.” _Lucky, so lucky, you could’ve died and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but watch._

Her voice goes quiet and she grips his hand harder. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you…? I’d have been fine, why did you…?”

He scoffs at her. “You would **not** have been fine. A shot like that to the chest would have killed you and we both know it.”

“And turning your back to a shot like that nearly killed **you**!” she snaps.

Silence. Then a sob slips over the Doctor’s lips.

“You almost **died**. You almost died and I wouldn’t have been able to… Don’t do that again. Don’t you **dare** do that to me again, you hear me?”

Blurred by the tears in her eyes, she doesn’t see when he sits up but she hears his groan and feels his hand in hers pulling her close. “It’s alright, Doctor, I’m alright.” He doesn’t make a noise when she slumps into his chest and starts weeping.

All the worry and terror at the sight of him on this bed, wound raw and so, so close to having killed him, the relief that he’s okay, all of it hits the Doctor in a wave of emotions and she can’t stop the tears. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s alive and awake and **okay**.

 ** _‘Everything is okay, Theta. We’re both okay. Everything is okay,_** ’ he whispers into her mind, arms wrapping around her, one hand slowly carding through her hair, and she is shaking, when did she start shaking? When he uttered her name? When he told her he’s alright? When he pulled her into a hug? When he woke up? She doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. He’s okay.

_‘Okay. Okay. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re… Don’t do that again, don’t leave me like that again, Koschei, I couldn’t… Please stay with me, be okay, let us be okay.’_

**_‘We’re okay. We’re both okay.’_ **

They tremble against each other, entangled so deep neither knows where one of them ends and the other begins, the way it’s supposed to be, just her and him, the Doctor and the Master, Theta and Koschei. Together.

Until she accidentally brushes against his bandaged back and the Master lets out a hiss of pain. With a muttered apology, the Doctor pulls away. Quickly, quite embarrassed, she wipes over her face with her sleeve and hopes the tears aren’t too noticeable.

“You need to rest a bit. ‘S gonna take a while for that wound to heal,” she says, fidgeting with the hem of her coat.

“Stay with me?” he requests, eyes soft and just a tad damp, and of course she can’t say no to that, she could never say no to him looking at her like this.

The Doctor kicks off her boots and scoots onto the bed with him, loosely wraps an arm around him, careful not to touch the wound again as he settles his cheek on a pillow, face towards her. She shuffles around until she can look at him, too.

“Great way to spend our weekend,” the Master says with a chuckle. “Running from people with guns and getting shot.”

“Well, at least this way, you’ll never forget to read up on potential romantic getaway places beforehand, right?”

He scoffs and grins at her. “Doctor, you do the exact same thing all the time and you haven't learned it yet. What makes you think I will?”

With a matching grin, the Doctor leans over to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Because you’re smart and I’m not. I like the thrill. And I **love** the running.”

The Master rolls his eyes and steals a sweet kiss from her. “And that, my dear Doctor, is why I won’t read up on our next romantic getaway. Because you actually **enjoy** the surprise alien attack every now and then. And who am I to deny you the fun of it?”

She giggles. “Alright, you’ve got a point.” Then she gets serious. “Next time, though, don’t get shot. I **really** don’t like you getting hurt.”

He sighs. “How about we both promise not to get hurt and leave this whole thing behind us?”

“Okay,” the Doctor mutters, shuffling closer and pulling a blanket over the two of them. She carefully tucks it up around him and sighs. “No one gets hurt next time. I like that.”

“Of course you do,” the Master murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed as he burrows deeper into the pillow and curls his arm around her waist to keep her close. “And now hush, I’m injured and need some peace and quiet.”

The Doctor smiles at the gruff tone of voice. His mind against hers betrays the bliss he’s feeling at the thought of having her in his arms. She doesn’t blame him. It feels the same to her. “Alright, I’ll shut up now.” She presses a short kiss to his cheek. “Sleep well. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A pleased thought jumping from his mind to hers tells her just how lovely those words are to both of them.

Together, they fall asleep, wrapped up in each other, comfortable and content.

Home, in each other’s arms.

** The End **

**Author's Note:**

> Yesterday I had 120 words for this. Then I wrote til four in the morning and had 1,400 words of mostly angst. I finished up the rest just now. I'm tired. (I also still want to write for tomorrow... ugh)
> 
> So the idea is mostly inspired by me writing the Doctor yesterday getting hit with some laser and the Master taking care of her. Because, surprise surprise, he's the one to get hurt this time!  
> A big thanks to Rae_Saxon, since their comment gave me the idea to write it like this instead the way I had intended to write it before that (far less people getting shot in the back...).
> 
> If you want to read anything into the Master getting shot in the back, I'm not stopping you. I had to stop and stare at the words several times while writing them, too.
> 
> The title is, obviously, a play on the Bon Jovi song 'You Give Love A Bad Name', only I changed the lyrics from  
> 'Shot through the heart  
> And you're to blame'  
> to 'shot in the back (and you're not to blame)' because he pushed her out of the way and took the shot that was meant for her (wonder if that makes him give love a good name, then... heh. okay, that wasn't funny, I'm sorry...).
> 
> I love writing these two communicating via telepathy. It's kinda absolutely amazing? I don't know. It might crop up more often in my writing from now on. It might not. Who knows? I certainly don't...  
> (it probably has to do with that Time Lord hivemind tumblr post... I can't find the link right now... and it's only vaguely inspired by it, anyway, so...)
> 
> There is going to be a story tomorrow, probably. The prompt is too good to pass up on. And I think no one will get shot this time. (I think, because I have about 500 words and will most likely pass out from exhaustion sometime around five in the morning...) So yeah.
> 
> Wear your masks, stay safe, read Thoschei!!!


End file.
